


Quiet Moments

by SeverinadeStrango



Category: Sengoku Basara, 学園BASARA | Gakuen Basara | Gakuen Basara: Samurai High School (Anime)
Genre: Aftercare, Akechi Mitsuhide is His Own Warning, Akiyama Nobutomo Belongs to @judasetcetera, BDSM, Coach Akiyama Nobutomo, Doctor Akechi Mitsuhide, Explicit Sexual Content, Fingering, Fluff, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Restraints, Severina's April 2019 Requests
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-04 22:56:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18822469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeverinadeStrango/pseuds/SeverinadeStrango
Summary: In which the calm is just as enjoyable as the storm, if not even more so.





	Quiet Moments

**Author's Note:**

  * For [judasetcetera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/judasetcetera/gifts).



> Akiyama Nobutomo is a historically based OC belonging to @judasetcetera. This was written for Judas as a request for the month of April 2019.

“Beg for it.”

“Oh, oh _ple-e-ase - !”_

It didn’t take long after that – Nobutomo doubted that he would have been able to hold out longer than he already had, with Mitsuhide screaming himself hoarse beneath him, a mess of trembling, quivering limbs. The black blindfold over his eyes was completely soaked through with tears of joyful agony that he had embraced, welcomed with open arms, and his lips were bitten wonderfully red. Poor thing, it would be cruel, to let him suffer further.

He twitched those two fingers, buried deep inside of his lovely, wiling captive, just once – and that was all it took, he came with a great seize, trying to reach forward and grab onto Nobutomo’s shoulders, although the rudimentary restraints prevented him from ultimately doing so as he shook so hard that Nobutomo could have sworn he’d heard Mitsuhide’s very _bones_ rattling. It was almost enough to be worrying – almost. The look of pure bliss on his flushed face quickly chased away any last reserves of fear he’d still clung onto.

Gently, he reached over Mitsuhide’s head and unbuckled the restraints, placing his limbs back onto the bench with care and making sure not to accidentally snag his hair as he reached around his head to remove the blindfold, and oh what a _sight_ he was. Watery-eyed and so giddy he could hardly speak, vulnerable and content with it.

Their trips here had become somewhat regular ever since that first chance encounter – Nobutomo’s curiosity had gotten the better of him, and although he’d had his reservations at first, there was not a shred of regret left now. Neither of them spoke of it during the day, and the only communication that was passed between them aside from the normal bouts of paperwork were the little glances that would linger for just a second too long, or one of Mitsuhide’s infuriating, taunting smirks – the purr in his voice that would promise of all the unexplored domains that they would visit during their next trip here.

He had made good on his vows. 

“So good for me,” Nobutomo murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to Mitsuhide’s forehead and smoothing down his hair, silky and impossibly sleek. Mitsuhide twitched with every little touch, but he did not once draw away, lips forming half-words of pleas for him not to leave. Don’t leave me here right now I’ve tried so hard, and he was right at home, here in this dazed, floating state that always came after Nobutomo took him apart, piece by piece, and then put him back together all over again. 

He kept a hand placed at the small of Mitsuhide’s back as he pulled him into a sitting position so that he was lying slumped to one side, all the while whispering gentle praises that were genuine to their very core.

It _was_ impressive, what he could do and what he _would_ do for Nobutomo, and the image of Akechi Mitsuhide on his knees, rubbing his head up against his thigh oh it haunted his every waking moment. It was like he was made to be there, like he was meant to be there – he’d said so himself oh so many times. 

Nobutomo leaned over and dragged one of the folded blankets off of the chair tucked inconspicuously away in the corner, shaking it out and wrapping it tightly around Mitsuhide’s shoulders. He scooped him up with little effort, and after a short bout of rearranging arms and legs so that both of them still had circulation in all of their limbs, let out a deep sigh. Neither of them had said a word yet, but he knew that both of them were feeling the soreness, the exhaustion that always came after such intensity. It was something they were _intimately_ familiar with.

“Still with us, Doctor?” Nobutomo whispered once several minutes (he guessed) had passed, and his reply was a slow, lazy nod. 

“You sure?”

 _“Hmm,”_ Mitsuhide said insistently, his eyes still only half open as he teetered precariously on the line between a deep, stone-dead sleep and giddy lucidity. Nobutomo took advantage of the opportunity to press a flimsy cup of water into his hand, goading him to drink at least _some_ of it while he was still awake – to his credit, he usually was rather meticulous about his own physical health. This was one of the _rare_ times that Nobutomo had dismantled him to the point of being as prone as he was, and he was both worried and proud at the same time.

In the morning they would return to work, and pass each other occasionally here and there and act as if nothing had ever happened, mainly because it would create one hell of a mess if the rest of their colleagues found out. Most of them were probably already making speculations – but to gossip was one thing, and to confirm those rumors was something else entirely. Sometimes it was exhilarating, being constantly kept on his toes – but unlike Mitsuhide he was drained by it rather than invigorated, and often would find himself craving more and more for moments like these. Everything was so simple and easy here – just the two of them, no risk, no anxious twitches, no apprehension, no tension. Just them, and their sore limbs (amongst other parts) and the satiation that they’d earned well enough. 

They didn’t have to hide here.

“Wish it was longer,” Nobutomo murmured aloud to no one, as Mitsuhide was half in and half out of a world of his own. Just like the times before, Nobutomo would start his glance-over, making sure that they’d not broken skin too deeply, that the welts left on Mitsuhide’s wrists would heal, that they would not impede anything that was required of him on the job. His hand slid from Mitsuhide’s wrist to his palm, and then something in his heart nearly soared, for whatever reason, when those slender fingers laced within his own. Mitsuhide was whispering something, breathing softly against his chest, content and relaxed and Nobutomo didn’t even dare to blink – he wanted to memorize every detail of this, just as much, if not more so than the sight of the renowned physician bound on his knees in a dizzying array of ropes and knots and ties, trembling in wait to be overtaken. 

He pressed his lips to Mitsuhide’s forehead, carefully caressing over the bruises, the bite marks on his lithe shoulders and arms with something like pride. His work, he had done this all – and it had pleased them _both._ Pleasure without cost – they merely found enjoyment in one another. It was by all means the strangest harmony that Nobutomo had ever found himself in, but he wasn’t complaining and he certainly did not plan on starting to. Instead, he leaned back against the wall that he’d sunk down against earlier, letting Mitsuhide pillow his head on his shoulder. They could, they _would_ stay here like this just a little longer. And neither of them would have traded it for anything in the world.


End file.
